The Sentry - By Robert Crais Page 0,63

to see him, either.”

“Play it out.”

Cole let the image advance in real time, and, at 8:53, the Tercel crept into view. Pike leaned forward when it appeared even as Cole paused the image, rolled it back, and brought it forward one frame at a time.

As the image grew, Pike saw three people in the car. Wilson was driving. Dru was in the passenger seat, and another figure was in the back. This confirmed the bad guys had used the footbridge to enter, and forced the victims to drive them out. It was a good plan considering the narrow dead-end street with so many potential witnesses.

Pike said, “Mendoza is in back, but I only see three people.”

“Could have left by the bridge, the way he came. Is that Dru in front?”

“Yes.”

Cole printed her picture, then walked the frames forward.

Six frames later, the angle had changed enough to reveal a fourth person in the vehicle.

Cole said, “Here we go.”

The second man sat directly behind Wilson, though he was still difficult to see. Cole advanced the image two more frames, and the second man’s face emerged from behind Wilson’s head.

Pike studied the blurry face, then leaned closer to the screen.

“Bring it one more.”

Cole advanced the image.

“One more.”

Pike felt a spike of surprise, then the surprise melted into the calm he felt when he steadied the crosshairs on a target. Cole was watching when Pike looked up.

“What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t Gomer. It’s Miguel Azzara.”

“I thought he didn’t know anything about this.”

“He lied.”

Cole glanced at Azzara.

“Two people are dead, two more are missing, and here’s El Jefe in on the abduction. This is bigger than a couple of bangers being pissed off because they got arrested. You think these guys found out about Straw’s investigation?”

“Don’t know.”

“Maybe Azzara was worried Wilson could hurt him. Maybe Mendoza and Gomer were killed because he thought they were cooperating with the Feds.”

Pike didn’t know, but it was no longer important. Azzara gave him a target, and if Pike could see his target he could hit it.

Cole was printing Azzara’s picture when his phone rang, and he told Pike the caller was Lucy Chenier. Cole took the phone outside onto his deck for the call, and Pike resumed watching the recording.

Pike watched at high speed, but the image still moved in slow motion because he thought about Azzara, and how he could find him. More joggers came and went, but most were female and the few men didn’t appear to be likely candidates for experienced knife killers. Pike saw himself arrive, and leave, but no one else appeared on the street. Pike had skimmed through one hour and twenty minutes of the three-hour window when Cole returned from the deck, looking unhappy.

Pike paused the recording.

“What?”

“That was Lucy’s investigator. The guy I told you about, Terry Babinette.”

Pike waited, knowing from Cole’s expression the news wasn’t good.

“After the storm, the city put up websites so people could post the names of friends and family members who evacuated or were missing. All Terry had to work with were their names, so this isn’t definitive, okay?”

“Say it.”

“The names Drusilla Rayne and Wilson Smith are on a list of the dead. Drusilla Rayne was a forty-two-year-old Caucasian who died indigent at Charity Hospital three days before the storm. Wilson Smith was a seventy-six-year-old African-American male who died of a heart attack while being evacuated to Natchez, Mississippi. No known relatives for either. That’s it.”

Pike felt achy and numb. The man and the woman he knew as Wilson Smith and Dru Rayne had taken their names from the dead, and probably used the deceaseds’ social security numbers to assume their identities.

Pike didn’t know what to say, and now Cole looked uncomfortable.

“You want to look at more video?”

“No point.”

“What do you want to do?”

Pike glanced at the frozen screen, then stood.

“Azzara has them. I’m going to take a shower, then I’m going to find Azzara.”

Pike left Cole at the computer and walked back to the guest room.

30

Daniel

Daniel said, “If our intel on the Mexican is accurate, I’ll know their location before noon.”

The Bolivian sounded more excited than Daniel had ever heard the man, which meant all the Bolivians were excited. Daniel pictured them sitting around in their compounds, strokin’ their stiffies, thinkin’ they were finally gonna get their revenge. Nothing those nasty little fuckers liked better than vengeance, and now they would have it. Thanks to Daniel.

“Stand by, sir—”

Daniel waited for the thunder of a departing Hawker business jet to fade before he continued. Those Hawkers were nice.

“Sorry,